A Matter Of Spelling
by nathan-p
Summary: No one can ever spell "ter Borcht". This won't be an issue for Elsa. Cracky RC-verse oneshot, written for MX. Jeb/Roland, toothrottingly fluffy and a bit wandery.


"Yes. Ter Borcht." Roland sighed and began speaking slowly into the phone. "That's T-E-R..."

Jeb grinned to himself -- he'd once thought that _he_ had it bad, with a name like Batchelder -- always having to spell it out.

Now he knew just how good he had it -- at least Batchelder was a nice English name.

Ter Borcht, as Roland had explained at some point, was a Belgian name, and not a very common one, at that.

In addition to which, Jeb had commented, it looked very like the name of a certain Russian soup.

Which was when Roland had hit him playfully in the arm.

"Thank you." Roland hung up the phone and stormed into the living room -- well, not stormed so much, but he wasn't all flowers and sunshine.

"I mean, really," he said grumpily, sitting down on the couch next to Jeb, "how many times have _you_ had to spell _your_ name out to someone over the phone?"

Jeb ruffled his hair -- he'd talked Roland into growing it out, and they both knew damn well he looked better with shaggy hair than his former strict buzzcut. "Aw, come on," he said quietly. "It can't be that bad."

"It _is_ that bad." Roland sat up abruptly. "I mean -- at least your name is pronounced how it's spelled."

"And yours isn't?"

"You just don't notice anymore. I have to spell it out for everyone."

"Is that so bad?"

Roland gave him a Look, an obvious sign he didn't have a retort ready.

Jeb couldn't help noticing that damn, but he was... well, he was cute when he was angry, and especially now, with his hair all a mess and his cheeks faintly flushed.

"It takes for_ever_," Roland said at last, and brushed some of the loose hair out of his face.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it. That took what, twenty seconds?"

He laughed. "Yes. Twenty seconds for one phone call. Do you know how many phone calls I make in a year?"

"A lot?" Jeb guessed.

"Yeah. It's just... a lot of my time that I could be putting to better use."

"Well, it gets your name spelled right." Jeb put his arm around Roland.

"True," he conceded, crossing his arms awkwardly.

There was silence.

Roland bit his lip, a sure sign he was thinking about something. Jeb let him be for once -- even though Roland _was_ hot when he did that, it wouldn't be just to break his train of thought right now. That could wait until later.

Besides, while that bite-the-lip thing he did was hot, he was just plain damn cute when he was thinking, with that faraway-yet-focused look on his face.

Jeb liked it, maybe, best of everything about Roland.

Although probably not more than his smile, he decided, as a slow grin spread across Roland's face.

"Elsa won't have that problem," he said, with a decidedly mischievous look on his face.

"I thought you wanted her to have your last name?"

"_Hell_ no. No child of ours is going to be cursed with my last name." Was he _smirking_?

"It's not a curse," Jeb said, knowing damn well he was going to lose this fight -- not that he minded. "And are you implying you want more kids?"

"No," Roland said, attempting to be defiant through a fit of giggles. "One is enough."

"Oh, come on, I handled six by myself."

"For two years," Roland reminded him.

"Well, yes," Jeb protested, "but I did a pretty good job."

"Good. I'll need your help."

Jeb grinned and shook his head, then paused. "Wait. Hang on. Is there any reason -- besides 'it's a curse' -- you want Elsa to take my last name?"

Roland grinned wickedly. "If _I'm_ going to have your last name, she might as well, too."

"W-_what_?" Jeb said, uncertain that Roland had really just said that.

"I've been thinking, and it would really make things easier--" He burst into laughter, and Jeb realized that he had what must be a ridiculous expression on his face.

"Oh, come on," Roland managed in between undignified giggles, "I was _kidding._"

"That's nothing to kid about," Jeb said.

"Is it?" Roland smiled, and OK, _maybe_ Jeb could someday forgive him for toying with him like that. "You're blushing."

"I know," Jeb muttered, trying to will it to stop. He _hated_ that...

Roland leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "Well," he said patiently, "that's why I said it."

"To make me blush?"

"Yes."

"Good," Jeb said, because he really couldn't think of anything else to say, not with Roland right there next to him.

"Well, that, and to make a point," he said, almost musing to himself.

"Which would be?"

"You always used to complain about having to spell your name out every time you met someone," Roland said, breath hot and very distracting in Jeb's ear. "And I wanted you to know--"

"Yes?"

"You really don't have it so bad," he murmured, and brushed Jeb's neck gently with his lips.

Jeb almost pushed him away -- was ready to tell him no, someone might see -- before he remembered that no one was here but them.

So that made it all right when Jeb, instead of quietly saying nothing, offering no reaction, turned to Roland and kissed him -- because no one was going to see, and it didn't matter no one could spell their names, because it was just the two of them on the couch together, and that was -- well, that was enough for Jeb.

* * *

Originally written for MX, where no one can spell ter Borcht, ever.

So I just recommend that we call him Roland. He doesn't mind. I mean, look at that adorable motherfucker, he doesn't care!

With loads of egregious fluff because I can, and cheers to the folks on chatzy for being awesome and kvetching about maintenance taking forever.


End file.
